Sleepover
by headtrip parade
Summary: Rayna goes on a business meeting and leaves Deacon with a moody teenager and four tweens. What could possibly go wrong?


**So in the midst of all the drama and torture we've been dealt recently on the show, Shiny Jewel challenged me to step outside my angsty comfort zone and write something a bit more fluffy. Thanks for that challenge! Enjoy! **

* * *

><p>"…okay, bye."<p>

Rayna put her phone on the counter and rested her head in her hands.

"What's wrong?"

She raised her head and looked at Deacon, who seemed perfectly blissful with his bed head and mouthful of Cheerios. She envied that men could be so disheveled and still pull off sexy.

"That was Bucky. Lisa Miller suddenly wants to hold out on her song. Looks like we're in a bidding war with Martina."

Deacon chomped his cereal loudly, making no attempt to mask the confusion on his face.

"I really wanted this song, Deacon."

He shrugged, stuffing another spoonful into his mouth. "So just write another one. I'll help you."

Rayna rolled her eyes, half disgusted at him talking with his mouth full and half disgusted that after all this time in the industry, his principles still got the best of him.

"I wanted _this_ song. It's perfect. But now I'm gonna have to wine and dine her tonight to convince her that I'm the one who should be recording it."

He looked up from the newspaper lying on the table and grinned at her.

"I love when you talk about wining and dining."

She grinned back, crumpling up a paper towel and tossing it in his direction. Her aim may have been his shoulder, but it missed him by about three feet. He laughed, continuing with his breakfast.

"Problem is she's meeting with Martina tomorrow. If I want to get to her first, I _have_ to take her out tonight."

"So?" He asked, keeping his eyes on the article he was reading. "We don't have any plans."

"Um," She looked at him, eyes wide, throwing her arms up in the air. "Are you forgetting about something?"

He raised his eyes to her, again making no attempt to wash the confusion from his face.

"Apparently I am."

"Daphne's having her sleepover tonight. I can't cancel on her; she's been looking forward to this for two weeks straight."

Deacon shoved the black bowl, finally void of Cheerios, away from him and propped his elbows on the table. He stared blankly ahead, appearing to be in deep consideration. It took him mere seconds before he glanced up at her, not even a twinge of hesitation in his voice at his spoke.

"I'll watch 'em."

Rayna laughed, grabbing his bowl and carrying it to the sink. "Come on, babe. I'll just see if we can reschedule it for next weekend. No big deal."

"What, Ray? You'll be gone just a few hours, right? I've baby sat before."

"Deacon," she walked back over to him and sat across from him, amusement playing her face like a violin. "You've watched Scarlett and Maddie when they were little for not very long. We're talking about four tweens for a number of hours here. Whole different beast."

He nodded, a serious look spreading over his face and into his eyes. He almost looked hurt.

"You don't think I can."

"Babe, it's not about thinking you can or can't. It's about thinking you probably wouldn't want to if you knew what was involved."

He ran a hand over his face.

"Rayna, give me a little more credit. I've moved in here, I'm getting along great with the girls… we're finally becoming a family, and this is something that families do. Sometimes you're going to have to go out on work stuff and leave me home. It's gonna happen. I just don't see the point in breaking Daphne's heart when I'm here and available to take care of things."

Rayna sighed and placed her hand atop his, cocking her head as she searched his face. He didn't have to speak a word; his eyes told her that he wanted to do this for her _and_ for Daphne. It made sense to her that he did, as he'd been working hard ever since he moved into the house to establish his role when it came to the girls. He was careful to not step on Teddy's toes, especially where Daphne was concerned, and things had been piecing together nicely. The girls were adjusting well; Maddie seemed more at peace than she had in a long time.

"Okay," she leaned over the table and kissed his lips softly. "Go for it."

He grinned, kissing her back.

"Good. How hard can it be?"

* * *

><p>Deacon settled himself into the couch as he opened a bottle of water and propped his socked feet up on the coffee table. He surfed his way through the myriad of channels, specifically seeking out the TennesseeOle Miss game. He wasn't a huge fan of football, per se, but he had been in touch with the old rivalry until the SEC realignment of 1992. After that the teams had only played each other four times; that night, they'd play the fifth and he wanted to say he took a peek.

Daphne's three friends had shown up right on cue at 6 PM, so Rayna got them settled, made them dinner, and had herself out the door by 8. He didn't want to say it was to his delight, but Maddie had volunteered herself to be the "hip" older sister and entertain them for a while. It certainly made his night go easier.

Just as he found the station playing the game, a loud commotion came from upstairs.

He raised his eyebrows and muted the TV, straining to hear what was happening. He winced slightly as decades of refusing ear plugs in loud venues were finally catching up to him.

He couldn't make out the specific conversation, but he heard several pitches consistent with young females. He sighed, keeping the TV muted and waiting for the screeching to die down.

He waited.

And waited.

If anything, the fuss escalated. He placed the water bottle on the table and stood up, walking slowly to the stairwell and staring up at it, continuing to wait.

The voices got louder.

He sighed again, rubbing a hand over his face and taking the flight two steps at a time. He turned the corner sharply, determining that the argument was coming from his daughter's room. He turned a second corner, finding three young girls whose names he couldn't _quite_ pinpoint standing awkwardly outside the door of Maddie's domain. They looked terrified.

He grinned at them quickly before allowing himself right into the room.

"—idiot!"

"You're such a—"

"HEY!" He raised his voice, mainly so the sisters could hear him over their own yelling. They both fell silent, turning to acknowledge his presence. "What in the world?"

Daphne ran over to him, grabbing him by the arm and flailing wildly in Maddie's direction as she spoke. "Deacon! She called me a dumb butt in front of my friends, except she didn't really say dumb _butt_. I told her she owed me a dollar but then she—"

"Oh my God, shut up!" Maddie screeched, folding her arms across her chest. "Tell him what you did to my bed!"

"It was an accident!"

"My comforter's ruined and I _just_ got it three days ago!"

"Both of you calm down," Deacon's eyes quickly went to a small orange spot on the green and yellow patchwork. He surmised it was out of place. "What happened?"

The two girls began to speak at once.

He rolled his eyes. He'd heard the girls arguing before, but this was ridiculous.

"HEY!" He raised his voice again, this time with a little more authority. "What happened to your bed, Mad?"

"We were painting our nails and she spilled orange polish all over my new comforter. Just look at it! It's ruined."

"Did you try washing it?" He knew the answer to the question, given that the incident couldn't have happened more than five minutes ago and the bed was still made. Still, it seemed appropriate to him to ask.

"No," she looked down, fuming. "Not yet."

"Well," he stared ahead, befuddled. "I'll take the girls down and start a movie for them. Why don't you throw that thing in the washer?"

Maddie shrugged and kept her arms folded, continuing to stare at the floor.

"And maybe…" Deacon trailed off and grinned slightly. He waited until she lifted her eyes to his before he spoke again. "Maybe apologize for calling her a dumb ass? I'm pretty sure she didn't mean to dump nail polish on your bedspread."

"Now you owe me a dollar, too!"

He looked over and found Daphne proudly holding out her hand to him. She was clearly expecting onsite remittance.

He shook his head and grinned widely, reaching out his hand and grabbing her open palm. He led her to the door before turning to give Maddie one last look. She had picked up her phone and began texting, the scowl on her face indicating that she was still in the midst of her comforter crisis.

On the other end of the spectrum, Daphne had already taken off excitedly down the hallway to her own room with her friends following closely behind.

Deacon stood in the hall for a moment, contemplating what exactly had just happened. He was sure he'd just saved the girls from certain death by stepping between them, but he also kind of felt like that was giving himself too much credit. Somewhere between bouncing back and forth between the extremes, he felt proud for a split second. He'd diffused an infamous Conrad sister fight without Rayna's assistance and that spoke volumes of his ability, he thought.

He couldn't _wait_ to tell Rayna. This was going so well.

He grinned to himself again, shaking his head. He'd barely stepped off on one foot when the ever familiar chords of one of Juliette Barnes' earlier, poppier, overall _bad_ tunes began blasting through the entire upstairs. Daphne's friends were literally squealing and he felt like the walls were about to collapse from their dancing.

Well, he hoped it was dancing; otherwise they were taking wrecking balls to the house frame.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on the wall.

_Kids._

* * *

><p>"Hey Deacon!"<p>

He slowly lifted his head from the book he'd been reading. The football game turned into a bust, as he couldn't compete with Hurricane Daphne and her tailspin of squeals, giggles, and ear drum busting pop music. Instead he'd found solace on the leather couch in Rayna's office with a paperback and a glass of milk.

_And who said your Saturdays wouldn't be interesting anymore?_

He chuckled to himself and brought himself face to face with Daphne and all of her made up glory. He did a double take, focusing on the bright blue eye shadow, clumpy black mascara, and wine colored lips. He wasn't sure if his face accurately portrayed it, but a fancy cocktail of confusion and fear was coursing through his veins.

_What the fuck has she done?_

"Daphne, what—"

"Can you start On Demand for us? Mom turned on the password again."

He glimpsed past her, realizing that her friends hovering in the doorway had also painted themselves to look like Bozo. He could smell the hairspray from a mile away.

"Um, yeah, I…" He put the book on the table and sat up, beginning to feel like he was in over his head. "What'd you do to your face?"

"We borrowed mom's make-up. We wanted to get dressed up for the movie."

He was astonished at her lack of enthusiasm and how overall nonchalant she was. He was in the music industry and he'd seldom seen grown women with so much make-up on their face. He raised his eyebrows.

"Is there a mess?"

Daphne shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe. Can we watch the movie? It's getting late."

"Yeah, just… maybe you could wash some of that off? Before your mom gets home?"

Daphne sighed loudly.

"Deacon, we're girls. We have to look good."

"Oh," he nodded; his face was expressionless, but his eyes were wide. "Right. You do, I guess."

She grabbed his arm, trying with all her weight to pull him up.

"Come on!"

He stood up, walking to the doorway.

"Okay, okay. What are we watching?"

"Justin Bieber."

He stopped in his tracks and raised his eyebrows even more.

_God, help me._

* * *

><p>Rayna tiptoed over to the bed from the bathroom. She hadn't stopped grinning since she came in the door, first finding all of the young girls asleep in a tangled mess of blankets and pillows on the living room floor. Their faces were softly illuminated by the TV light and she had to stifle a laugh at the ridiculous bright eye shadow they all donned. Some were blue and some were green, but all were adorably cheesy.<p>

Then she'd found all of the contents of her make-up box strewn across her vanity. She'd also tried in vain not to laugh at that, but it didn't work. They had left no stone unturned in their quest for outer beauty.

She slid off the pair of Deacon's boxers she had worn while she readied herself for bed and went downstairs to grab a glass of water, climbing beneath the sheets and pressing herself against his warm body. She studied him; the sight of his peaceful slumber bringing certain warmth to her core she couldn't suppress.

There was a long way to go, but their lives were molding together perfectly. _They_ were so close to being perfect; to being the family they always wanted and always deserved to have.

She grinned again and kissed him softly on the cheek, nibbling ever so slightly at his earlobe.

"Hey," she whispered softly. "Babe?"

He stirred, looking at the clock before rolling over to face her. 12:24 AM.

"Why so late?" He yawned, rubbing his face.

He smiled at him.

"We got the deal. I'm recording the song."

He grinned back, kissing her.

"Congratulations."

She ran her hand through his hair, which was slightly damp with sleep sweat. He'd always gotten hot when he slept, hence why he always threw the covers off and then accused her of stealing them. She got notoriously cold, so from day one she'd accepted the blankets as generous gifts.

"How were the girls?"

She twirled her fingers through his hair, leaning in to slowly kiss his neck before allowing him time to answer.

He grunted and closed his eyes, trying hard to roll away from her.

"I can't talk about it yet."

She laughed, moving her hand from his head to his bare arm.

"It's okay," She leaned in to kiss his neck more. "I'll make it up to you."

He chuckled.

"You don't have to make it up to me, Ray. It's just part of what we're building here. I enjoyed it."

She raised her eyebrow.

"You enjoyed it?"

"Well," he looked at her with fiery intensity that would squash any bit of doubt she may have had about what he was about to say. "You and I aren't sleeping together any time soon but yeah, I guess it wasn't so bad."

She scoffed. "What'd I do to deserve that?"

"Darlin', if non-stop squealing, Justin Bieber, and hooker make-up isn't the most effective birth control I don't know what is."

She smacked him lightly on the arm, nuzzling her face into his neck.

"I think I can talk you down from that ledge real quick," she whispered, softly running her bare foot up and down his leg and watching in amusement as he tried to control his breathing.

He grinned at her and lifted her face so close to his he could feel every fast, shallow, need-driven breath she took hot on his face.

"Oh really?"

She closed her eyes and nodded.

"Then start talkin'."


End file.
